


come down

by xwynn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, I think?, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, just know that they love each other really, soft porn??? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwynn/pseuds/xwynn
Summary: "You talk too much.""I'm sorry." He's not."I think I like it.""Yeah?""Yeah."





	come down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slampora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slampora/gifts).



> Sam. It is your birthday. Naturally, I wrote you bokuroo.....porn. 
> 
> But on some real shits, I'm real glad I met you!!! someone who is a real cool guy and also as avid about bokuroo and bokuto koutarou as I am. Everyday I thank saso for letting us meet. 
> 
> Also (@everyone but mostly GG) this fulfils the Dick Touch Fic Pact of 2017. It is finally fucking done.

“Come on,” Bokuto says smiling up at him, flushed and waiting as he lays back on the bed, tugging Kuroo closer by the end of his tshirt, “I want you.” There’s a hickey blooming on his collarbone, all purple and pink, reminiscent of the neon that shines through the window where it melts onto his skin, fading into each other. And Kuroo hates to admit- knows it makes him sound like a pretentious ass straight out of some indie film - but he likes it. Likes that he’s the one who put it there. Likes that Bokuto looks more than willing to wear such a mark in the first place. Kuroo likes it so much that he decides that maybe today, or tomorrow, or whenever he doesn't care, that he should put another one there - just for the hell of it.

Bokuto pulls him down til they’re nose to nose, not hesitating to kiss him, all hard and rough and eager. It’s sloppy and wet and bruising (loud, even) Bokuto’s tongue is poking and prodding and teasing; sending shockwaves like an electric storm into Kuroo, into hands, into fingers til he’s hiking Bokuto’s shirt up -inch by inch- until Bokuto gets the hint to take the damn thing off already.

There's a quirk at the end of Bokuto’s lips, upturned and small like he’s in on a private joke. “Needy,” he says, voice playful even in its breathlessness.

“Oh, shut up.” He mouths along the fat of Bokuto’s lower lip, nipping into it for good measure.

Kuroo bends to suck at the junction of his collarbone, tongue lavving at the sharp dips, and biting - Bokuto gasping at the action that sends heat down Kuroo’s spine. Where it builds and builds and builds as he travels down Bokuto’s chest. The sounds that escape him, rumble through his chest; Kuroo feeling it beneath his lips, like a current that has him restraining himself from grinding down into Bokuto and losing himself there.

“You’re -” Bokuto huffs, bites back a hiss as Kuroo palms his already half hard erection and noses the top of his jeans, “insatiable, you know that?”

“Me?” Kuroo asks, as if it's the most incredulous thing he’s ever heard, unbuttoning Bokuto’s pants and tugging them away. “Absolutely not.”

It’s a rapid nod that Bokuto does, words barely able to form on his tongue as Kuroo grazes him with the barest sensation against, teasing. “Yes, yes you are,” he manages to say, even surprising himself.

He nuzzles into Bokuto’s thigh, looking up at him through his lashes, a falsified innocent look on his face. “I mean - I _guess_ , you could say I am but,” Kuroo bites into his thigh, and sucking, leaving Bokuto as gasping mess as he rutts into the air, searching for satisfaction. “it's not just everything, or anyone I’m insatiable for.”

He’s gripping Bokuto now, precum soaking through his underwear, the hand on him careful but firm, and Bokuto writhes under him in anticipation, strangling out a barely formed “Please” as Kuroo slides his briefs down, painstakingly slow.

He can feel the warm heat from Kuroo’s open mouth, feel Kuroo’s strong hands grip his hips, the way his thumbs massage into them ever so gently and it's too much, too too much.

“Its you Bokuto, it's only ever been you I’m insatiable for.”

The moan that escapes him is unearthly, guttural and cutting that echoes around the room and Kuroo _loves_ it. The sound only making him painfully aware of how hard he is in the constraints of his jeans, and hums his approval around Bokuto’s length. Slides his mouth down all the way so the tip hits the back of his throat as Bokuto twists and arches off the bed, lost in the pleasure, but Kuroo does not move any more. Does not move a single centimeter until Bokuto is collapsing back on the sheets with a whine, a shaky hand reaching down to pull on Kuroo’s hair in a silent plea to move, to do something, anything.

But Kuroo wants Bokuto to feel this. Feel him. Every bit of Kuroo and nothing else, feel every inch of his skin, his feelings, his admiration. Feel everything that Kuroo has ever wanted to give to this man until it is embedded into his skin. Until it is home in bones and Bokuto can not help but be reminded of how much he is cared for, of how much he is adored.

Kuroo starts to pull back, running his tongue on the underside of Bokuto’s dick, and then bobs down again til the tip is back in his throat. And he does this again and again, the room filled with sounds of his ministrations, the sound of Bokuto’s incoherent moaning. Each groan growing louder and louder as he tugs on Kuroo’s hair, not knowing if he wants him to stop or for him to continue but it feels so good. So, so good.

A rough voiced, breathless, “ _fuck_ ” is all that Bokuto manages to choke out, a string of curses and “Tetsu’s” following right behind. Bokuto is at his wits end, and the way his back bows, spine trying to arch off the bed when Kuroo swallows him down to the base is truly a sight to see, something of pure beauty and Kuroo moans around him at the sight. Bokuto is writhing, pleading, the hand in Kuroo’s hair now digging into his scalp and he barely manage to continue. “Shit Tetsu, I’m gonna- _fuck_.”

Bokuto is close but Kuroo doesn’t want that yet, not ready to end this high that surrounds them, giving Bokuto one last broad lick across the underside of his dick as he slides off.

And the way Bokuto’s back eases back down on the bed, muscles spasming and twitching in his thighs, his stomach, his arms; precome dripping and pooling down the crease of his legs - it leaves Kuroo breathless. Winded and exhausted with the sheer value of gorgeousness at the sight; Kuroo slides off his own jeans, taking the boxers with it. Erection hard and pulsing with need, but he can wait. He wants to wait.

He shuffles forward, slotting himself in between Bokuto’s thighs where he has his knees pulled up - his chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath. And Bokuto looks a little blissed out; eyes glazed over with an easy grin to match but the way he looks up at him, the way their bodies seem to fit together leaves Kuroo himself breathless. They do not fit perfectly, not like jigsaw pieces or fault lines in the earth but Kuroo likes to think that somehow that they were meant to be - in some form or another - this, them; was meant to happen. Maybe not forever. But here, now, at that moment - with Bokuto’s thighs on the side of his hips, both strong and soft - is something that belongs to them.

Like the stars belong to the night, and the sun belongs to the day; this moment belongs to them, belongs to each other in such a wholly form. And there are more questions of ‘how?’ that arise than why but there are things Kuroo does know and it is this: he is beautiful.

He is beautiful and he is handsome and Kuroo does not know which deity to thank for this whirlwind of a man but he is grateful. Grateful because Bokuto looks so good in the bright purple neon that shines through the windows. Grateful because Bokuto Koutarou, someone who is kind and loving and deserving of the world if he so much as asked for it, allows Kuroo to be in his life. And he deserves to know. Deserves to know this gratitude, this appreciation welling up inside of him.

Kuroo grabs Bokuto’s hands, intertwining their fingers, studying the differences. The similarities. Kuroo’s hands always seemed to be more spindly than his, fingers reaching over his where Bokuto’s were smaller, thicker. Bokuto looks up at him with curious eyes, the purple playing over his skin faintly, but he does not speak. Years of constructed trust in his silence.

He untangles their hands, slides his palm down to Bokuto’s wrist, bringing it to his mouth. Because there are plenty of words Kuroo could say, has said, will say as many times as Bokuto allows him to. But there are certain things, at certain times; like these, where the quiet is more powerful than the noise. So Kuroo grazes his lips over Bokuto’s wrist, soft and barely there, pressing the smallest of kisses onto the inside of his wrist, trailing up to the middle of his palm.

Bokuto’s eyes are heavy but gentle on him, not once looking away.“Oh Tetsu,” he says, caressing his cheek, because he knows. Understands what he’s trying to convey, what Kuroo wants to say without having to actually say it. “C’mere,” he whispers. And Kuroo follows without hesitation, crawling up his body so they’re nose to nose once more.

Bokuto kisses him then, slow and careful, savoring the way lips move against each other with purpose, with fluidity, with fond ease. “You are such a sap,” he jokes, pressing lips to the top of Kuroo’s mouth.

If he was younger, he would have grimaced. Brushed it off as a mistake of his character but there are things he has learned. Things he’s been taught and it has always been to be unashamed. So he laughs, softly, and says “I know,” because such statements have always been true when it comes to Bokuto. He is too unabashed to pretend that such statements are lies so he kisses his forehead because his mother always told him that forehead kisses spoke love straight to the heart and asks, “Let me take care of you?”

Bokuto smiles up at him, soft and kind. He never lost that boyish grin, no matter how old they’ve gotten.

“I’ve only been waiting since forever y’know,” he teases earning him a half hearted glare in return. But Kuroo reaches into the nightstand drawer anyway, rolling his eyes at him, a smile tugging at lips.

“And you called me needy,” he snorts, “look who’s the needy one now.” Bokuto pinches his arm, chuckling, tells him to get a move on with it already and he does.

Kuroo pours the lube over his index finger, then his middle, smearing the excess over Bokuto’s hole, holding his breath in awe at the way Bokuto reacts. From the way his breath hitches. To the slight tense of his shoulders.

Kuroo thrusts a finger in, then two, slow and careful; observing the way Bokuto canters his hips up, the way he exhales so deeply that Kuroo can feel it reverberate through his whole body.

Bokuto angles his neck just so when Kuroo curls his fingers, arches his back when he brushes against his prostate with a high keen, grinding down on his hand when Kuroo works his fingers in deep.

He takes the opportunity to press forward, fingers still moving in rhythmic thrusts and curls, kisses a line down Bokuto’s neck, biting down at the sharp angle of his jaw, Bokuto gasping out at the feeling.

“Tetsu, _please_ ,” he breathes out, dick hard and leaking between them and it makes Kuroo’s own length twitch with need. Kuroo shakes out a steadying breath, pulling his hand away and grabbing the lube once more, dribbling it over himself and spreading it with light strokes before finally pressing inside.

The moan that escapes Bokuto is heavy, loud enough to pierce through thin walls and Kuroo is sure there will be complaints from the neighbors in the morning but quite frankly he can’t find it in himself to give a damn so he thrusts forward, deep and slow because the sounds that he elicits from the man beneath him are things of wonder.

So he does it again. And again. And again. Deep and slow, punctuating his movements with a grind to his prostate, tormentingly so that Bokuto curls a hand around his back, digging and scratching into the skin that are sure to leave angry red lines for tomorrow morning.

But then Bokuto is releasing these tiny little gasps, hissing in a breath as he squeezes around him and Kuroo moans out at the feeling, head spinning as he grips Bokuto’s thigh and he digs his nails into Kuroo’s back in return with a sharp breath. “Kuroo, babe, I’m loving this but, you gotta fucking-” Bokuto squeezes around him once more, involuntarily, Kuroo gritting curses under his breath, “-you gotta give me more.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Course,” Kuroo manages to reply, so he quickens his pace, fucking shallower, Bokuto meeting him thrust for thrust, the sound practically obscene against the white noise of the Tokyo night. Then he’s pressing a hand lightly on Bokuto’s stomach and he fucking _whines_ and that alone is enough to push Kuroo to the edge, movements becoming erratic as Boktuo chokes out his name around moans, nails raking down his spine.

“Tets - Tetsurou, im, f-fuck, _so close_ -”

But Kuroo is nothing, if not a teaser, so he slows his movements, angling his thrust so they reach deeper, so slow that Bokuto’s eyes flutter open, intense heat swirling in those golden irises.

“Hey, hey - look at me,” and Bokuto does, but not without confusion and the slightest hint of frustration for always teasing him so damn much. “You are so goddamn beautiful,” he says, “and handsome, and I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

“Dammit Tetsu,” he groans and it almost sounds like a complaint but the way he clenches tightly around him says otherwise.

“I’m serious Kou,” he assures, but the way his chest heaves up and down says he won’t last much longer so he picks up his pace once more, watching the way Bokuto’s eyes screw shut, the way his thighs tremble around him, “I don’t deserve you, never will.”

“Fuck off,” Bokuto bites back, and Kuroo laughs unevenly at his aggression, hips rocking in circles that make Bokuto’s breath hitch “you deserve me, deserve each other. So just - ”

Bokuto moans high in his throat, crying out his name and Kuroo loses it, hips stuttering as he lets out a string of curses under his breath.

And then Bokuto is falling. Falling over that precipice that he had been building up to for so long, cum shooting across his stomach as he tenses up. Back bowed off the bed and Kuroo watches in amazement until he’s following right behind him, burying his face into the crook of Bokuto’s neck with a low groan as hips thrust forward to a shaky stop.

They collapse, panting hard and sweaty, Kuroo easing out with a tiny whimper from them both, kissing Bokuto with no real thought other than the fact that he’s in love, Bokuto kissing him back knowingly. They lie there, with Kuroo flopping over to the side, both racing to catch their breath, getting comfortable despite the mess between their sheets.

“Hey,” Bokuto starts, then turns his face to the side, blindly kissing whatever he can reach: Kuroo’s cheek, the bridge of his nose, his eyelids.  
“You talk too much,” He grins, carding a hand through Kuroo’s messy hair.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not.

Bokuto laughs, carefree. “I think I like it.”

“Yeah?”

Boktuo looks at him, with golden eyes wide enough to get lost in and smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and kisses him firmly.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews (as always) are intensely appreciated.


End file.
